


Out of the Shadows

by MomentarilySane



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Case Fic, Gen, Mycroft is insufferable, Teenager involved, but not totally, sort of kid fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-07
Updated: 2014-02-07
Packaged: 2018-01-11 11:45:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1172677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MomentarilySane/pseuds/MomentarilySane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not long after John begins accompanying Sherlock on cases he notices a girl who seems to just sit within sight of the crime scene and observe. He can't help but start asking questions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Investigation

John had begun to notice her shortly after moving in to 221B. She stood, or often sat, on the edges of every crime scene he accompanied Sherlock to. She would perch herself just far enough away that she was well out of the way, giving the police nothing to truly complain about, but she was always within sight. It was at the fifth crime scene that John finally gave in to his curiosity.

He approached Lestrade first. “Who’s that girl?” he tried to discreetly nod his head towards the tree she had settled herself under. Her eyes were fixed on Sherlock as he danced around the body, seeing details no one else could catch.

Lestrade looked towards the hill, not bothering to try and be subtle. “The girl with dark auburn hair?” he ventured, already understanding what John was asking. After a nod in response he shrugged, “We’re not quite sure. She never causes trouble, just sits there and observes. Friendly enough when approached. We thought she was with Sherlock to be honest, she only comes out to his cases. Many on the team refer to her as his shadow, always lurking on the outskirts. Occasionally he’ll go over and talk to her.”

John tried Sherlock next. He waited until they had solved the case. It was a quiet afternoon, John sat in his chair flipping through the newspaper while Sherlock puttered about in the kitchen. “Have you ever noticed-”

“It’s probably safe to assume I have,” Sherlock interrupted with a deep suffering sigh.

Squashing down his irritation, John pressed on. “That young girl who is at all of your crime scenes?”

“Of course,” Sherlock answered.

“So, you know her?” John ventured after it became clear Sherlock wasn’t going to elaborate.

“Of course,” Sherlock repeated, before once more lapsing into silence.

“Who is she?” John tried a final time.

“She’s just a part of my homeless network,” Sherlock answered, his voice taking the familiar bored tone.

“But why does she come to your crime scenes?” John pressed.

“She’s the head of my homeless network.”

“And that makes attending your crime scenes a part of her job?”

“Of course not. She does that as a favour to me,” Sherlock offered.

“A favour?” John wondered aloud, turning to look at Sherlock. Sherlock was hunched over, staring into his microscope as if their conversation wasn’t worth his full attention. John concluded that it probably wasn't. After a minute it became clear that Sherlock had abandoned their conversation and John reluctantly returned to his newspaper with a sigh.

Finally, John decided to make one final attempt at getting his answers. They were at a particularly interesting crime scene, Sherlock fully immersed in his work when John drifted off to the side. Once he positioned himself on the far edge of the scene, he looked to the ally he had scene the girl lurking in. Feeling puzzled and disappointed, he noted that she was gone. He thought that was odd, he had never seen her leave before them.

He nearly startled when he glanced to his side and was met with a pair of bright blue eyes. “I wondered when you’d talk to me,” the strange girl offered a warm smile that John could only meet with a confused look.

“How did you know I would talk to you?” he asked, putting on a neutral mask. One sentence and he already felt like he was missing something.

“You've been asking about me, only a matter of a time,” she shrugged.

“Who are you?” he pushed the conversation on.

“You can call me Lysa,” she offered, pronouncing it ‘Lie-sa’ and once more wearing a soft smile.

“My name is John,” he reciprocated.

“I know.”

“You’re name doesn’t answer who you are,” John pointed out.

“I’m sure you’ve already heard it. I’m the head of Mr. Holmes’ homeless network.”

“What does that entail?” he wondered aloud.

“I keep track of them. Watch out for them. Manage them, basic things to make sure they are okay and that Mr. Holmes can find them if needed. I’m of no threat to either of you,” she explained, guessing at why John was pursuing her as much as he was. Most everyone else just wrote off her existence, she was still surprised he had gone as far as to seek her out.

“Then why do you watch him at crime scenes?” he accused.

“I don’t come to crime scenes to watch him. I come as a favour to him,” she tried to sound reassuring, but annoyance was beginning to seep into her voice.

“What kind of favour?” John asked. She only offered a shrug in response. Before he could ask the question again he heard Sherlock call him.

“Duty calls, Doctor,” Lysa winked at him before walking back towards the ally. John paused for only a moment before returning to Sherlock.

After Sherlock had put Lestrade on the right track, he and John found themselves once more in 221B’s living room. John, sat in his chair typing up one of their recent cases, Sherlock, fiddling with his violin. It was then that Sherlock asked “What did you talk to her about?”

John didn’t need clarification, they both could figure who Sherlock meant. “I was simply trying to get to know her.”

“The way your fist clenched in frustration during the conversation speaks otherwise,” Sherlock announced.

“I thought you were busy analyzing the crime scene.”

“I was, and keeping an eye on you at the same time.”

“I was just asking her who she was,” John sighed.

“I told you who she was,” Sherlock’s voice sounded clipped.

“You didn’t tell me her name,” John pointed out.

“It was irrelevant,” Sherlock insisted.

“Names are relevant. They personalize people. Especially names as unique as ‘Lysa’,” John barely noticed the twitch of Sherlock’s mouth at the name. Like he was about to correct him. Before anything could be said in regards to it, Sherlock’s phone rang distracting them both.

Sherlock answered, drifting off towards his bedroom. John barely finished a paragraph before Sherlock swept back in the room, his stance stiff and what John would interpret as almost worried. “We have a case.” Sherlock announced.

“What? Already, we just finished one!” John protested.

“Yes, it’s incredibly urgent. We must leave now,” Sherlock was already tying his scarf and half way down the stairs when John stood up. John, curious to see what had the detective so worked up, raced to catch up with him.


	2. The Threat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John are called to a murder with a very familiar looking victim, and the mystery of Lysa is clarified further.

The cab ride was silent and tense. Sherlock refused any attempts at starting a conversation, choosing to instead glare out the side window. Thinking as well, John figured. When they arrived Sherlock was out of the door before the cab had even come to a complete stop. Not wanting to miss anything, John tossed a few bills at the driver before chasing after him. Sherlock wasn’t necessarily running, but he was taking complete advantage of his long legs that left John doing a light jog to keep up.

As the walked, John noted Sherlock’s eyes were scanning the area with urgency. When John looked around he felt his stomach tighten. He noticed the absence of Lysa, something he had never seen. However this case seemed rather abrupt, perhaps she didn’t catch the memo quick enough, or she was busy managing the network.

They entered an ally, John noted the same one he had seen Lysa disappear into. It was in there that John realized what was going on when he saw familiar dark auburn hair. Just as he was tensing at the idea, Sherlock seemed to relax. “That’s not her,” he announced to Lestrade.

Lestrade nodded, “We noticed when we turned her head to more clearly see her face. She’s homeless though, same body structure and same hair colour. The coincidence is eerie.”

“The universe is rarely so lazy,” Sherlock mumbled, sounding almost recited.

“Pardon?” John finally found his voice.

“Nevermind,” and with that Sherlock was taking note of the crime scene. Every aspect of it, and the young girl.

“She was attacked here,” he announced. “From behind, suggests she was ambushed. She was - however - moved to be lying face down. Someone didn’t want us recognizing her right away.”

“What could that mean though?” Lestrade wondered.

“She’s a message, or a warning. She’s a part of my homeless network, and only a handful of them possess this hair colour with the red tinge in it,” Sherlock’s worry seemed to return at that.

“One of which is your shadow,” Lestrade continued, filling in the blanks.

“My shadow?” Sherlock stopped and stared at Lestrade in question.

“That girl who comes to your crime scenes,” Lestrade supplied.

“That gi- she is not my shadow!” he almost sounded indignant at the idea. “She’s the head of my homeless network.”

“She’s not here though,” Lestrade stated.

“No, which begs the question, where is she? And is the murderer targeting people who look like her intentionally, or for another purpose?” Sherlock turned and left the scene at that.

“Sherlock!” Lestrade called after him.

“Sorry mate, I’ll talk to him,” John assured before jogging after Sherlock once more. Sherlock was walking at a calmer pace though, almost as if they were just going for a stroll. “Do you want me to call a cab?” John tried.

“No, it’s much easier to look for someone on foot,” Sherlock spoke as if it was obvious.

“We’re looking for someone?” John felt like he would be speaking in questions all night.

“Lysa,” Sherlock tried to hide a cringe at the name, John filed away in his mind. “She is missing and we need to locate her, do keep up John.”

John continued to follow in silence. He followed Sherlock as they wound through London, John assuming that Sherlock was walking with destinations in mind. It wasn’t until late in the night that they finally turned down Baker Street. Sherlock had a permanent frown on his face and John was trying to ignore the pain in his feet.

As they approached, Sherlock stopped right by the stairs to 221. When John turned to question, he saw what must have caught Sherlock’s eye. A blanket covered figured sitting in the corner by the stairs. “You weren’t at the scene,” Sherlock accused.

The blanket shifted, revealing a face with bright blue eyes framed by the familiar dark auburn hair. “And you took your time getting back,” she responded.

“Our deal was specific,” Sherlock persisted.

Lysa sighed, worry creasing her face. “I couldn’t be at that one. She was one of the girls I work with, and the similarities are too close for comfort. You’ve got to understand. I came here to make up for it.”

Sherlock was looking up and down the street. “Inside,” he stated.

“What? One breach of the deal and that’s it?” she cried in outrage.

“This has nothing to do with our deal. Did that girl do anything to deserve or bring on being murdered?” Sherlock hissed.

“No,” she responded firmly.

“Then someone is either targeting you or girls that look like you, either way I can’t allow you to be on the streets anymore.”

“Allow me? That’s rich,” John never expected the underlying hurt in Lysa’s tone. It wasn’t news to him that he was missing parts of the story here. What John couldn’t condone was Sherlock physically lifting the girl from the floor and bringing her into the house. Her screaming in protest.

“Sherlock!” John yelled in surprise. 

Mrs. Hudson was out in the hall in a second due to the commotion. “Sherlock, dear, what are you doing?” she cried, both her and John following Sherlock and the now resigned Lysa up to their flat.

“She wasn’t going to move, you could see that John!” Sherlock defended while dropping her down on the couch. 

“She wasn’t, but that doesn’t give you the right to pick her up and force her!” John’s shock clear on his face.

“Dear, could I get you a cuppa?” Mrs. Hudson offered a now glaring Lysa. When she turned her eyes on Mrs. Hudson the anger seemed to seep away and she smiled.

“That would be lovely, thank you,” she seemed genuine in her acceptance.

With a reason to escape the hostile space, Mrs. Hudson retreated downstairs. It felt like a long time as Lysa sat glaring at Sherlock while he paced back and forth through the room. “Sherlock, what’s this about?” John tried in a calmer tone.

“It’s not safe for her out there,” he insisted, dropping himself down in his chair, a distrustful eye resting on Lysa.

“‘Cause that’s such a priority for you,” Lysa glared, arms crossed in front of her.

“It’s always been a priority,” Sherlock sighed, the signs of a long repeated conversation surfacing.

“Sure, when it’s convenient or suits you. Any other time and it’s being shipped off to Mycroft,” her face twisted in distaste.

“You know Mycroft?” John ventured, trying to steer the conversation.

“‘Course I do,” she seemed surprised at his shock.

“How-” John started, only to be cut off.

“Mycroft,” Sherlock sneered.

“Brother mine. Your landlady requested I deliver this. You seem to have frightened her,” his gaze shifted between Sherlock and Lysa. “Lysandra, a pleasure for you to finally join us,” John watched her frown deepen, but the tea was accepted anyway.

“Mycroft,” she acknowledged, resignation clear in her body language once more.

“Informal as ever,” he tutted. John’s face crinkled in confusion, thinking of all the times she spoke of Sherlock as ‘Mr. Holmes’. “Now, may I ask why you’ve been hiding?”

“Because you’re an overbearing arse that won’t allow me two words in regards to making decisions about my life,” she stated with a very matter of fact tone. John watched Sherlock’s mouth twitch into a slight smile of approval.

“You’re both so terribly thick headed,” Mycroft sighed. “Do you not see why our previous arrangement was best?”

“No,” both responded in unison. 

“Are you honestly telling me that you want to raise a 16 year old, brother?” Mycroft ventured. Which had John’s jaw dropping. He couldn’t fathom why Mycroft would allow Sherlock to raise a child when Sherlock was little above one at times.

“The previous arrangement was as such because I was too young and was not properly equipped to deal with such. And young children are tedious. I’d say I’ve been doing just fine for the passed year,” Sherlock announced.

“What you’ve been doing for the passed year was not raising a child. You do not let a child live on the streets, you must pay them more mind!” Mycroft sighed in exasperation.

“Fine,” was all Sherlock responded with.

“Fine,” Mycroft repeated with shock. “If she returns to living on the street though, I will have to take matters back into my own hands,” Mycroft continued. When no one said anything, he turned and left the flat. For a minute, all John could do was stare between the two before him. Sherlock was glaring at where Mycroft had stood and Lysa was idly drinking her tea, seeming content in just that.

“So, she’s…” John gestured toward Lysa.

“Lysandra Enola Holmes. My daughter, yes,” Sherlock nodded.

“And he’s…” John gestured towards Sherlock.

“My father? By DNA I suppose,” she sighed.

“Oh don’t put on the dramatics,” Sherlock frowned. “After you ran away for a year, you returned here. Why else if not because I was your father?”

“Your homeless network was a good opportunity to obtain freedom with just enough security?” she offered, eyes wide with a false question.

“And you’re staying here?” John cut in, in an attempt to diffuse the situation.

“My options as stated, were here or back with Mycroft. I suppose here I can at least do my own thing,” she mused, accessing the flat.

“Please,” Sherlock huffed, sinking further into his chair.

As Lysandra opened her mouth to once more retaliate, all John could think was that this would be interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try and update as frequently as I can. I'll be going away this weekend though and I'm not sure if I'll be able to post. I'm hoping to get the next chapter up - absolute latest - by Tuesday.


End file.
